


Perfect Grace

by officerstilinskihale



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Angst, Death, Depression, Derek blaming himself, Drabble, Forgiveness, Hurt, Loss, Love, M/M, Pain, Romance, Self-Harm, Self-Loathing, Slow descent into madness ha, as usual, ghost!stiles, i want it to be super sad, in the next part, no seriously, sad things, some of these tags will happen later, sorry if i spoilt it, that turned into fic, um
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-01
Updated: 2013-04-28
Packaged: 2017-12-06 16:16:53
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 5
Words: 7,689
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/737653
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/officerstilinskihale/pseuds/officerstilinskihale
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p class="MsoNormal">Stiles looked up at Derek again. Derek, who should’ve been after the hunters, who <em>would’ve </em>been after the hunters…</p><p class="MsoNormal">Derek, who was down next to him, his expression defeated—<em>helpless</em>—as he took Stiles' pain, as if he knew—</p><p class="MsoNormal">As if he knew Stiles wasn’t going to get better.</p><p class="MsoNormal"><em>Oh</em>.</p><p>
  <span>Stiles <em>wasn’t</em> getting better.</span>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Never Knew I

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Saucery](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Saucery/gifts).



> The work title and the chapter title are both taken from the song "Come What May" by Ewan McGregor & Nicole Kidman.
> 
> I'm apologizing because this wasn't meant to happen but I was listening to really sad depressing songs and I got feels and I had to write it down.
> 
> I only own the plot and the mistakes, everything else belongs to Jeff Davis, who I'm still not sure is an angel or a monster.
> 
> I understand that I'm a bit rusty so don't hesitate to point out mistakes and stuff that's wrong. And whatever.

“Stiles,” Derek’s voice was panicked. There was so much blood, and it was _everywhere_. It wouldn’t stop.

Stiles wouldn’t stop _bleeding_.

“Stiles please,” he begged, “Keep your eyes open. I’ll fix this. I promise I will. Just, please keep your eyes open.”

Even to his own ears Derek knew the words sounded hopeless. Derek already knew what was coming.

Stiles blinked slowly. The face above him was blurry and he couldn’t hear anything above the ringing in his ears. Everything _hurt_. He opened his mouth to reassure whoever it was standing over him but his voice wouldn’t work.

Instead, he coughed up blood, struggling to get it past his windpipe and stop it from choking him.

“Stiles you fucking idiot,” the voice rang through the haze of pain in his mind and his heart clenched as he recognized who it was.

 _Derek_.

Blinking frantically, his vision began to clear and he could slowly see as Derek’s face came into focus and—

Were those _tears_?

Stiles had made Derek Hale, Alpha werewolf extraordinaire, cry.

Something was seriously wrong.

Stiles shook his head, wincing when that made everything hurt worse. He opened his mouth again, fighting the bile rising in his throat and forcing words out,

“Sourwolf,” he croaked out.

God, everything really did hurt.

“Derek, why are you crying?” he choked out, his voice nothing more than a whispered rasp, and then hacked up some more blood. Derek knelt down next to him and placed the palm of his hand on Stiles’ forehead. The pain began ebbing away and Stiles almost gasped in relief.

Except—

The pain kept coming.

It wouldn’t stop and Stiles had no idea why.

 _Unless_ —

Stiles looked up at Derek again. Derek, who should’ve been after the hunters, who _would’ve_ been after the hunters…

Derek, who was down next to him, his expression defeated— _helpless_ —as he took Stiles' pain, as if he knew—

As if he knew Stiles wasn’t going to get better.

 _Oh_.

Stiles _wasn’t_ getting better.

“Derek, I’m—“ _dying_.

It was the only word he couldn’t say. For once in his life, his words failed him. Stiles Stilinski, lost for words. Everything seemed so surreal. Derek was still taking his pain away and Stiles knew it was pointless, so he shook his head one more time.

“No, stop,” he said, hating how weak his voice was.

How weak _he_ was.

Derek paused and lifted his hand away from Stiles’ forehead, his expression torn between relief and indecision.

Good to know Stiles was going through enough pain to make Derek wince.

“Stiles, I can help you,” Derek said desperately, “If you just hold on, I can get Deaton. You can’t die on me. Please.”

Stiles’ heart _ached_. He wanted to sit up, reassure Derek that he was going to be fine, to reach out and pull Derek towards him, to _kiss_ him—

He just wanted _so_ much.

But Stiles could already feel himself drifting away.

His life didn’t flash before his eyes.

He saw the faces of the people he most cared about.

His father, Scott, Allison, Lydia, the rest of the pack—

His _mother_.

And lastly, Derek himself.

Derek’s face when they first met, when Stiles had introduced him to Danny as Miguel, his expression of disbelief when Stiles had saved him at the pool, as if he was surprised anyone had thought to save his life.

Of course.

Of course Stiles was in love with Derek.

He loved so much it _hurt_.

“Derek,” he whispered, pausing until Derek’s eyes were locked on his.

His eyes were so _beautiful_ , the color ever changing, as if unable to decide what it wanted to be, flecks of gold and green and grey and hazel… They were incredible and Stiles knew that if they were the last things he would see, everything would be okay. Derek would be okay, Stiles would make sure of it.

“Love you, you know,” he murmured, thankful for the first time for Derek’s superior hearing. Derek blinked, his eyes widening. His jaw worked for a couple of seconds, clearly struggling with himself and he let out a frustrated noise.

“Stiles, I—“

“I know, Derek,” Stiles smiled, “It’s okay.”

Stiles closed his eyes and let go, Derek’s face imprinted behind his eyelids. He let out his last breath quietly, dimly aware of the pain fading away as he felt the soft press of lips against his.

When that steady heartbeat finally stopped thumping, Derek pulled away and took a few deep breaths, clenching his fists by his side.

He was furious.

Angry with the hunters, angry at _Stiles_ for trying—no, not trying, Derek was safe, Stiles had saved his life again—he was so _angry_ at Stiles for saving him again and again and again. He had warned him, yelled at him and ordered him never to do it again because Derek knew Stiles would get hurt one day and now he was dead and Derek would never forgive himself.

But most of all, he was angry with himself.

Angry because he couldn’t protect Stiles like he should’ve.

Angry because he didn’t deserve Stiles’ love and he got it anyway.

Angry because, once again, it was _his_ fault.

It had always been his fault.

What made him the angriest was the fact that Stiles never got to hear the words Derek needed to say.

Now, Stiles would never know how much Derek cared about the hyperactive, loud-mouthed teenaged boy who he owed his life to; how much Derek thought about him, how Derek couldn’t get Stiles out of his mind no matter how hard he tried; how much time Derek spent listening to his heartbeat, desperately reassuring himself that Stiles was safe.

He was gone.

Stiles would never know how much Derek wanted him—

 _Needed_ him.

At a loss, Derek looked down at the boy he loved.

His eyes were closed gently, his dark lashes contrasting sharply with his pale skin and his face was relaxed… Peaceful. If it wasn’t for the absence of that comforting—that _damned_ —heartbeat, he could’ve been simply asleep.

Derek didn’t care about the hunters anymore.

Not when Stiles was dead.

Knowing this could probably waste Stiles’ efforts to keep him alive, Derek curled up next to Stiles’ unmoving body, his head on the younger boy’s chest as he closed his eyes, his ears hopelessly straining to hear the heartbeat of the boy who could never save Derek again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Say hi to me on [tumblr](http://officerstilinskihale.tumblr.com/)!
> 
> You can also yell and tell me you hate me if you wish.
> 
> Thank you so much for reading!


	2. Where My Demons Hide

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “I saved your life Derek!”
> 
> “I _heal_ Stiles,” Derek said, exasperated. They’d had this argument so many times before, saying the words felt almost like a habit.
> 
> “Not from _death_ you don’t!” Stiles exploded. He was angry now, Derek could tell from the way he began to pace around in front of him and yet, Derek couldn’t resist twisting the knife _right_ where it hurt. Because, anger? Anger was something he could deal with.
> 
> “You would know, though, wouldn’t you?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is for the [anon](http://officerstilinskihale.tumblr.com/post/47763853462/are-you-going-to-continue-perfect-grace) who showed even the vaguest hint of interest in this story.
> 
> I've been stuck a bit on where I want this story to go but I'm working on it, if only because I have nothing better to do.
> 
> Chapter title is from the song "Demons" by Imagine Dragons.
> 
> As usual, I only own the plot and the mistakes, everything else belongs to wonderful people who are not me.
> 
> If you find anything that is really, really awful, message me (my tumblr is found at the end) or whatever.
> 
> Enjoy? Idk, am I supposed to say enjoy if it's a sad story?

_Stiles looked beautiful._

_His eyes were liquid gold in his face, the expression in them playful as he backed away from Derek, slowly beckoning him closer. There was a light sheet of sweat over his skin and the fading light painted him with a dull glow, and that_ mouth _—_

_Slightly parted, those full pink lips Derek swore was hell itself._

_Stiles was saying something._

_What was he saying?_

_Derek stumbled forward, unnaturally clumsy in the cool air as he took in their surroundings. The woods seemed strangely familiar and as Stiles began to duck in between the trees, Derek heard the unmistakable_ click _of a gun being drawn._

_His eyes widening, Derek began to panic as his mouth opened to warn Stiles but as hard as he tried, no sound came out. The moment Stiles disappeared in the trees, Derek pushed forward against whatever was holding him back._

_He needed to get to Stiles._

Protect _Stiles._

_Somewhere inside he knew that it was a futile hope and when he heard the gunshots, he dropped to his knees, his voice finally cooperating as his howl of Stiles’ name ripped through the air, tingeing the atmosphere a burning, angry red._

_He had let Stiles down._

Again.

+++

Derek jerked awake, panting.

It figured that the one time Derek got any sleep since Stiles died he would dream about the exact thing keeping him awake.

Sitting up, Derek retracted his claws before sliding them out slowly. Lately, he was filled with so much anger, so much _rage_.

It was much worse than when he had found out about what Kate had done, or when Laura had died. They were his family, but they weren’t Stiles. They hadn’t been a part of his life for a long time. The memories kept coming back and Derek had been filled with an incontrollable desire to _ruin_ , to _hurt_ , to _destroy_.

It had been a week. A week of constantly pushing his limits, pushing just how much pain he could inflict on himself before his werewolf healing wasn’t strong enough.

See how much blood he could lose, before he passed out.

He never managed to. He healed way too quickly and the Hale house smelt like fresh blood everyday.

One of his betas asked him about it the day before, Isaac, he remembered.

Derek had snapped. Before he realized it, he had broken Isaac’s arm in six places and was snarling viciously at Erica and Boyd.

The look on their faces was like a bucket of cold water.

They were terrified.

He stepped away from the three of them and Isaac scrambled away, the tears shining in his wide blue eyes.

“I’m sorry,” he ground out, horrified at what he’d done.

Stiles would’ve been so disappointed.

He felt his lungs begin to contract, his chest tightening as he struggled for air.

“I need you guys to leave me a lone,” he gasped out, “for a little while.” The words were like an iron grip around his throat.

“Derek,” he dimly heard Erica call out, her voice concerned, but Boyd held her back.

“You don’t know how stable he is,” he told her calmly, “He needs his space.”

“I just need some time. Please.”

His voice sounded so broken, and two weeks ago he would’ve sneered at the mere idea of being vulnerable in any way. Two weeks ago, he had a strong pack, held together by a boisterous, obnoxious _human_ boy who had wormed his way under Derek’s skin, forcing him to be stronger. To be _better_ , not just for the pack, but for himself too. But now Stiles was gone.

And Derek _was_ weak.

He had lost the most important member of his pack, his friend, his _equal_ —

His mate.

He was so vulnerable right now, so alone, curled up on the floor of his burnt-out living room, the room Stiles had been sitting on, inhaling curly fries like his life depended on it only a week before, unable to even _breathe_.

That was the first time it happened.

“Breathe, Derek,” a familiar voice said and his head snapped up.

_Laura_.

She looked exactly as she did that last day in New York, when she had patted his cheek fondly and promised she’d be back before he knew it.

“Hi, Der-bear,” she chirped, and Derek noticed his shock at her appearance had driven off his panic attack, “He’ll be here soon, don’t you worry. I just dropped by to check on you.”

“Laura, I… What…” he trailed off, unable to continue and Laura sighed, shaking her head.

“Mom was so disappointed when she saw how quiet you’d become. I was hoping you got better.”

‘ _I did_ ,’ Derek wanted to say.

Until Stiles had to go and get himself killed.

Laura smiled, however, and flipped her hair over her shoulder. It was such a _Laura_ move; Derek felt a pang in his chest.

“I missed you,” he blurted out and she winked at him, her face softening.

“I love you Derek,” she told him, “We all do. Especially him. He cried for days, Derek. He wanted to come back to you so much. He hated leaving you, Der. Remember that.”

Shocked into speechlessness, he could only watch as Laura blew him a kiss and disappeared.

Ghosts?

His heart skipped a beat.

Laura had said _he_ would be here soon.

“Stiles?” he said quietly into the empty room.

There had been no answer and Derek had scoffed at himself. There was no such thing as ghosts. He spent the rest of the afternoon methodically destroying every piece of furniture that had the barest hint of Stiles’ scent. After a couple of hours he was exhausted, the mental stress of hurting Isaac and seeing Laura leading to him collapsing on the couch and falling asleep within minutes.

Then he had dreamt about Stiles dying and knew he wouldn’t be sleeping anytime soon. He got up slowly; wincing when his body protested at the discomfort and dull throbbing ache his muscles were apparently going through. It would be gone in a few minutes and was probably just due to the awkward position he fell asleep in. Looking around the room, he paused mid-stretch. There was a figure looking out the window. The sun had just begun to rise and the figure was nothing more than a shadow in the barely visible light. Derek inhaled slowly, trying to recognize the scent but he got nothing off the figure. That usually meant witches, they were the only supernatural creature he knew of that could mask scent.

Tensing, the alpha prepared to pounce when the figure turned around.

Derek’s heart flew into his throat.

Stiles.

_Stiles_.

“Stiles,” Derek’s voice was broken, barely more than a whisper. Stiles smiled back at him hesitantly.

“Hey sourwolf.”

Derek didn’t know what to _do_. His expression flickered as a hundred different emotions flitted across his face. Stiles’ smile grew, his honey-gold eyes bright.

“Did I break you? I’m making Derek ‘I’m-the-alpha-hear-me-roar’ Hale feel _feelings_!” his voice was amused, almost gleeful, “Look, I can see more than your usual pissy Alpha face! I’m so proud.” At the words, Derek felt a surge of anger. How could Stiles act as if nothing had happened?

As if his death hadn’t changed Derek’s world.

“You should be,” he snapped, “You only had to fucking die for me to stop being emotionally constipated. No big deal, right?”

Stiles, who had been walking up towards Derek, froze.

Turning, Derek climbed up the stairs to his bedroom, slamming the door behind him and he heard the wood splinter from the force.

“Sorry,” Stiles’ voice was muffled, apologetic, “Can I come in?”

“No,” Derek groused, his skin to hurt _something_ —

Anything.

Hurt _himself_.

“I am anyway.”

Derek turned around to see Stiles casually seated on his dresser, swinging his legs back and forth, studying the room. It was such a familiar scene; Derek felt the words tumbling out of his mouth without permission,

“How come you can walk through walls but sit on a table?” Derek frowned at himself but the question had startled Stiles into letting out a short bark of laughter.

“That’s a great question actually,” he mused out loud, “I’m not really sure.”

Sinking down onto his bed, Derek met Stiles’ eyes, ignoring the sudden increase in the tempo of his own heartbeat, trying not to let the fact that Stiles didn’t have a scent or a heartbeat faze him. He clenched his fists, feeling his claws already beginning to lengthen.

It was the anger again.

It clung to him like a second skin, itching to get out with every second that passed, tempting Derek to break whatever he could. Derek couldn’t shake the feeling out of him, no matter how many times he slid his claws along skin, tearing through the flesh and muscle there, blood pouring out like rivers onto the burnt floor.

“What are you doing here?” he bit out, the sharp flare of pain he felt from digging his claws into his thigh helping him focus.

“I didn’t—“ Stiles started to say, before shrugging.

Derek snorted, but there was no amusement there. It was an empty, hollow noise and he saw Stiles flinch like he’d been struck.

“Rubbing salt on the wound?”

At that, Stiles’ eyes flashed and he took a deep breath, visibly calming himself before saying quietly,

“I know you think it’s your fault Derek. I know you blame yourself. But it _isn’t_. Nothing’s your fault, okay? Kate burning your family alive? That wasn’t your fault. You can’t help who you fall in love with and you didn’t know she was using you to get to your family. They don’t blame you, and why should they? Me dying wasn’t your fault, either. I chose to take those bullets and nothing you could’ve done would’ve stopped me. You need to let it—“

“I should’ve known better Stiles!” Derek snapped, “I should’ve locked you in your bedroom because you never listen to me when I tell you to _stay put_! You’re safer at home; I should’ve known you’d come to find me and I should’ve made sure you didn’t!”

“I saved your life Derek!”

“I _heal_ Stiles,” Derek said, exasperated. They’d had this argument so many times before, saying the words felt almost like a habit.

“Not from _death_ you don’t!” Stiles exploded. He was angry now, Derek could tell from the way he began to pace around in front of him and yet, Derek couldn’t resist twisting the knife _right_ where it hurt. Because, anger? Anger was something he could deal with.

“You would know, though, wouldn’t you?”

Stiles recoiled and opened his mouth but he didn’t have a response.

“Yeah, I thought so,” Derek said, all his energy leaving him suddenly, “I appreciate what you’ve done for the pack Stiles, I always have. I just wish I tried harder to make you listen.”

There was silence for a few seconds and Derek looked up to see Stiles studying with a sad expression.

“I don’t blame you,” he told Derek, his voice soft, “I would’ve done anything to protect you, you couldn’t have stopped me. No one blames you, your betas don’t, Scott doesn’t, hell, _my father_ doesn’t blame you. Stop hurting yourself because of it.”

Before Derek could say a thing, Stiles had already disappeared.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Say hi to me on [tumblr](http://officerstilinskihale.tumblr.com/)!
> 
> You can also yell and tell me you hate me if you wish.
> 
> Thank you so much for reading!


	3. Slowly Sinking, Wasting

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “For fuck’s sake Derek, I fucking love you okay? I wasn’t going to just stand there and watch you die!” Stiles gave up being quiet and screamed at him furiously, throwing the words in Derek’s face. Even without the presence of his heartbeat, Derek could hear the truth resonating in his head and he met Stiles’ eyes firmly.
> 
> “No, you wouldn’t have,” Derek agreed bitterly, glancing back to the headstone. Stiles was quiet, watching as Derek’s eyes flitted over the words once again.
> 
> _Loved by many._
> 
> “You just took the bullets without thinking that maybe I’d feel the same way. That I didn’t want to watch you die, either.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm dedicating this chapter to my little brother, who is a little shit, but sometimes gets me inspired. He's the one who came up with the idea of the funeral and he has been a big help. Even if he won't read this, I hope he knows that I love him an insane amount and I'll always be his (mostly) awesome big sister.
> 
> So, I've got the last chapter written up and am prepared to write an epilogue if people don't like the ending, because it's pretty awful even for me.
> 
> Chapter title is from the song "The A-Team" by Ed Sheeran.
> 
> Again, I don't own anything but this feeble excuse of a plot and all the mistakes, please let me know if you find any really tragic ones, my tumblr's at the end of the chapter.
> 
> HAPPY READING, BECAUSE THIS IS ACTUALLY A DECENTLY HAPPY CHAPTER!
> 
> Also, I apologise for the inconsistency of the chapter lengths, I didn't really plan the story out too well. My bad.

Derek eyed the reflective surface of the dark coffin distastefully before glaring balefully at the sun. It was a stupid day for a funeral, too sunny. Too _happy_. Stiles should’ve been here, rolling his eyes at Scott fumbling through his speech, way too sappy for Derek’s taste. The boy was barely coherent. Stiles _would’ve_ been here, if Derek hadn’t gone and gotten him killed.

There was a bad taste in Derek’s mouth and he wanted nothing more than to leave, throw up and let the anger out, preferably by breaking a couple of his own bones, a small recompense for allowing Stiles to die.

The Sheriff had decided on a small funeral, only allowing “family” and the pack in, although Derek could smell Deaton and another unknown, someone Scott pointed out to him as the school counselor, Morrell or something.

There was a sudden rustle of movement and Derek looked up to see that Scott had finished speaking, his face tear-stained even as his eyes barely looked bloodshot, thanks to the speed of werewolf healing. Scott passed the Sheriff and buried his face in his mother’s shoulder, who was crying openly.

Another reason to feel guilty, Derek supposed.

Grabbing the shovel from one of the grave workers, Derek could see the Sheriff steeling himself before throwing the first shovelful of dirt into the grave, the coffin already lowered into it without Derek’s notice. Mrs. McCall and Scott followed suit, the rest of the pack mimicking their actions, before Deaton passed the shovel to him. Willing himself not to lose control, Derek bit the inside of his cheek, struggling to keep the anger in check as he too, tossed a bit of dirt and dropped the shovel next to him. The air seemed to grow thicker around him as his eyes flicked towards the marble gravestone.

_Stiles Stilinski_

_1995 – 2013_

_Loved by many._

Stiles would’ve been 18 this year; he only had a few months left to wait. Shaking his head, Derek seemed to be unable to turn away from what was left of Stiles. He didn’t want to, it would make everything seem that much more final. He couldn’t let go. Not yet.

Too distracted with his thoughts, Derek jumped as a heavy hand landed on his shoulder. He spun around and flinched when he saw the face of the Sheriff looking straight at him.

“How are you holding up?”

Derek let out a breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding and rubbed a palm across his face. The Sheriff had been much more objective than Derek had been expecting when they finally opened up about the whole werewolf thing a couple of months ago and despite the reassurance he got when he saw Stiles’ ghost that the Sheriff didn’t blame him for Stiles’ death, Derek still expected to be dodging bullets.

“Could be better,” he mumbled, a bit too honestly and the Sheriff nodded. There was another brief pause before the Sheriff offered,

“The house has been pretty quiet lately, without Stiles.”

Flinching, Derek’s eyes darted from the Sheriff’s face to the gravestone before resting on the hard ground.

“I’m sorry,” he began but stopped abruptly as the Sheriff’s expression turned stern, his features hardening.

“It’s not your fault,” Stiles’ father’s voice was firm, unwavering, “You couldn’t stop him, neither could I. Stiles has always known what he was doing, even when he was a kid, and even though I wished he would’ve stayed out of it, I know he did what he thought was best. I trust his judgment and you should too.”

“I just wish I tried harder to keep him safe,” Derek admitted aloud, after a quick glance at the grave. The Sheriff shook his head; his stoic façade crumbling and Derek saw the pain hidden in his eyes.

“Me too.”

Patting Derek on the shoulder, the Sheriff turned and began walking away before stopping to call out softly, knowing Derek would hear every word,

“But I’ve always known it would be difficult to stop Stiles from protecting someone he loves.” Derek stared at the retreating figure, lost for words, when he heard Stiles’ voice directly behind him, calling out his name.

He spun around, his heartbeat kicking up and was met with Stiles’ shit-eating grin.

“It’s fun to randomly appear and scare you, I can see why you like doing it.”

Derek shrugged, before glancing back over his shoulder where the Sheriff had already disappeared.

“Your dad’s a good man,” he said quietly and Stiles looked out into the distance fondly.

“Yeah, I check up on him sometimes, make sure he’s eating his vegetables, y’know? Keeping watch of his salt levels and all that jazz.”

“Can he see you?” Derek asked, curious. Stiles shook his head sadly.

“He’s drinking again,” he told Derek, his voice pained, “I don’t know how to tell him to stop, I can’t—“

“I could come over a couple of times and make sure he’s doing okay,” Derek offered, before backtracking quickly, “I mean, if you want, I don’t want to intrude or anything.”

“No, no that would be really great,” Stiles said gratefully, “I would really appreciate that. Thanks.” An awkward silence settled over the two of them and Stiles cleared his throat.

“I’m sorry.”

“What for?” Derek scowled.

Stiles met his eyes briefly before his gaze darted away, “For leaving you.”

Shaking his head, Derek dug his hands into his pockets.

“I should’ve kept you safe.”

“You couldn’t have stopped me Derek, I wanted to protect you.”

“That’s not your job, Stiles!” Derek said angrily.

“Just because I’m a weak human doesn’t mean I can’t protect the pack!”

“No one said you were weak,” Derek pointed out, his voice tightly controlled as if he was trying not to start yelling, “I just don’t want you trying to protect _anyone_ if it means getting you killed!”

“For fuck’s sake Derek, I fucking love you okay? I wasn’t going to just stand there and watch you die!” Stiles gave up being quiet and screamed at him furiously, throwing the words in Derek’s face. Even without the presence of his heartbeat, Derek could hear the truth resonating in his head and he met Stiles’ eyes firmly.

“No, you wouldn’t have,” Derek agreed bitterly, glancing back to the headstone. Stiles was quiet, watching as Derek’s eyes flitted over the words once again.

_Loved by many._

“You just took the bullets without thinking that maybe I’d feel the same way. That I didn’t want to watch you die, either.”

“I should go,” Stiles whispered after a significant pause.

Derek blinked away the moisture that had begun to gather in the corner of his eyes and ran a hand over his face.

“No, stay.”

+++

The days passed by almost in a blur. Derek settled into a normal (or at least, as normal as a werewolf with a ghost boyfriend could be) routine. He began planning to rebuild the Hale house, Stiles never leaving his side. There were times when Stiles would hint about calling the betas back but Derek refused, unwilling to share Stiles just yet, aware of how selfish that made him sound.

He got better eventually, the anger beginning to leave him in small degrees. He visited the Sheriff occasionally, spending time in Stiles’ room just to remind himself of how Stiles used to smell, like freshly cut grass with a hint of lavender, his mom’s choice of detergent. Derek talked to the Sheriff and Stiles would stand awkwardly a few yards away, watching and sometimes making aborted motions to step forward despite knowing the Sheriff couldn’t see him when Derek would mention the Sheriff’s diet politely or when, as gently as possible, Derek would ask the Sheriff not to drink that night.

The Sheriff had been furious the first time, Stiles flinching as his father yelled in Derek’s face about how it was no concern of Derek’s and he could damn well drink if he wanted to. Derek had remained silent and unmoving and when the Sheriff had finally come to a stop, his face red and his breath coming in harsh pants, Derek just nodded in resignation and muttered softly, “It’s what Stiles would’ve wanted.” and walked away, feeling the weight of the Sheriff’s stare as he got into the Camaro and drove away. The drive back to the house had been quiet and when Derek pulled the keys out of the ignition, he turned to face Stiles, who was looking at him, his expression unreadable.

“Did I go too far?” he asked, feeling slightly uncomfortable.

Stiles shook his head, raising his arm for a moment as if to touch Derek before deciding against it and getting out of the car.

That was another thing that had changed.

Before Stiles’ death, he had no qualms about bumping up to Derek, punching him in the shoulder to show his affection, knowing werewolves were tactile creatures. It had taken a long time for them to get to the stage where everyone was friendly with each other but now it felt like they had started back to when Scott was first bitten and Stiles didn’t trust him.

Stiles didn’t explain and Derek never asked, content enough with the fact that Stiles was _there_.

At night, they would spend hours talking before the conversation drifted off and Derek would be lulled to sleep by the easy silence. Derek knew Stiles never stayed because Stiles was never there when he got up, presumably out checking up on his other friends or his dad and that didn’t bother Derek nearly as much as it should have because Stiles always appeared after Derek had breakfast. It wasn’t something they talked about and all too soon Derek got used to Stiles’ sudden presence in the house and one day he found himself thinking about how Stiles had died and was surprised to find that the anger wasn’t as harsh and as biting it used to be and neither was it at the forefront of his mind. It was still there, and it would be for a long time, but it wasn’t as prominent in his mind and Derek felt lighter, lighter than he had felt in weeks.

It was a month later when they were talking quietly at night when Derek said,

“I’m thinking of calling the betas to come home.”

“I think that’s a great idea,” Stiles chirped and Derek lifted his head from where it had been lying against the mattress to find Stiles grinning at him from across the room, “They’re all really worried about you but none of them would dare to come see you. Isaac’s misses you.”

Sitting up, Derek met Stiles’ eyes before turning away quickly, feeling a pang of silly jealously shoot through him.

“Do you go see him? Is that where you disappear to at night?”

Stiles nodded.

“I go see everyone as much as I can but I don’t stay for long. They can’t see me, so there’s not really much I can do.”

Crinkling his eyebrows in confusion, Derek hesitated before asking quietly,

“Why am I the only one who can see you?”

“I’m not sure of the specifics,” Stiles shrugged, “When I died, I just woke up, feeling all weird and fuzzy, right? And I was looking at Laura, who by the way is also really hot. Like, your whole family is insanely attractive, it’s incredibly unfair. Is that like, a werewolf thing or just a Hale thing?”

Derek snorted and they stared at each other in surprise. It was the first time since Stiles had died that Derek had truly felt amused. There were always half-smiles and weak smirks but a snort was usually viewed as a full-on belly laugh from Derek and Stiles’ expression told him so.

“Shut up,” he groused, his face splitting into a proper smile and the look on Stiles’ face was almost worth the pain Derek had suffered.

Almost.

“What were you saying about Laura?” he prompted. Stiles shook his head, his own smile bright and his eyes happy.

“Anyway, she told me I could see you if I wanted to but I wouldn’t be able to talk to anyone else. I’m not really sure how it works, apparently it’s a mate thing?” he looked to Derek, who shrugged, before continuing on without hesitation, “Laura only managed to talk to you for a bit before I went to see you, or at least that’s what she told me. I don’t know she could’ve gone and visited some secret ex-boyfriend who broke up with her over a text message and set his trashcans on fire or something.”

Stiles winced as he realized what he had just said and looked at Derek, his expression apologetic.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean that. Bit sad to find out that even death can’t manage my brain-to-mouth filter. Moving on, I don’t know how she managed to talk to you either, and it’s really annoying not knowing how things work. Plus it’s not exactly something I can just Google, y'know?”

“I’m surprised you haven’t tried,” Derek shot back, the banter coming easier these days. Stiles grinned back and didn’t answer, watching as Derek flopped back down onto his bed and closed his eyes, his lips still curled up into a smile.

“Goodnight Stiles.”

Stiles ran his fingers along the edge of the dresser he was seated on and glanced at Derek’s peaceful figure fondly.

“Night sourwolf.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Say hi to me on [tumblr](http://officerstilinskihale.tumblr.com/)!
> 
> You can also yell and tell me you hate me if you wish.
> 
> Thank you so much for reading!


	4. For the Selfish Pain

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “It doesn’t matter. It’s in the past, I’m just sorry I didn’t have the courage to trust _you_ and tell you everything but I didn’t and now you’re dead.”
> 
> “Derek,” Stiles started quietly, his voice so earnest and sweet Derek had to look back up from where his gaze had dropped to the bundles of colored fabrics spread out on the floor, “I wouldn’t have expected you to tell me about Kate. I wish you did but I’m not surprised you didn’t, because that can ruin someone for life, Derek. It’s not your fault, okay? And, about us being mates… I’ve always known. Why the hell do you think I was protecting you? You were right; you couldn’t have stopped me, even if you tried to. I’d do it again and again if I had because _I love you_. And I’ll be waiting for you, as long as you need me to, until we can be together again.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter title is from the song "Clarity" by Zedd feat. Foxes.
> 
> Nothing is mine, unless Jeff Davis would like to gift me his lovely characters.
> 
> Unbeta'd, expect mistakes.
> 
> This is the last chapter however, I wasn't really happy with how short this one was and how it turned out so I will be writing an epilogue which will be happier, definitely.
> 
> Again, sorry for the weird chapter lengths, none of this was planned. I just had the basic idea in my head and then jumped right in with the first chapter. It is a mistake I will not be making in future WIPs that's for sure.
> 
> Once again, thank you for reading and stuff, I know for a fact, it's not that awesomely written because I'm a bit of a spazz but I appreciate it all, especially those of you who left a comment or gave me a kudos or bookmarked or something.

“I’m sorry,” Derek blurted one afternoon. Stiles looked up slowly from where he’d been flicking through the pages of a sports magazine.

They were sitting on the floor of the living room, cross-legged, the atmosphere peaceful and relaxed.

Meeting Stiles’ eyes, Derek felt something in his chest tighten.

“I’m sorry,” he repeated. He’d been saying it a lot lately; in his head, to Stiles, to his betas when he had called a couple of hours ago, asking them to come home.

Stiles closed the magazine and put it aside before cocking his head to the side thoughtfully.

“What are you sorry for?”

“I get it, okay?” Derek pulled in a deep breath and let it out, exhaling loudly, “You would’ve found a way to protect me no matter what I did to try and stop you. I still wish you didn’t have to die for me, Stiles I never wanted you to die for me. I don’t want any of you to sacrifice _anything_ for me, especially not you. But I get it.”

“So why are you sorry?” Stiles sounded confused, but his eyes were bright and happy.

“I’m sorry because I would’ve done the same for you, but I never told you that.”

Stiles smiled.

“It’s okay.”

“No it’s not,” Derek said, raising his voice slightly. He wasn’t angry, not anymore. He just needed Stiles to _understand_.

“It’s not okay. I love you and I was an idiot. I know now you probably already knew that we were mates but I shouldn’t have waited for so long to tell you. I should’ve trusted you enough to let you know how I felt and I should’ve known you wouldn’t have hurt me,” he paused, steeling himself, before pushing on, “not like Kate did.”

“What does Kate have anything to do with this?” Stiles stilled, and his eyes did a quick survey of the room before flicking back to Derek’s face, his brain beginning to piece things together, “She—“

“Yeah, she was my first—my only—relationship and I was stupid and it got everyone killed.”

“Derek, how old _were_ you? Jesus Christ, she must’ve planned it all from the beginning, I’m so sorry,” Stiles’ face was a mix of shock and horror.

Derek sounded disgusted.

“I was 16, she was beautiful. She’s always been like that, but she was sweet, and funny. And she acted like she really adored me. I thought she loved me,” Derek’s voice cracked and he shook his head, “I knew she was a hunter, but she told me it was like _Romeo and Juliet_ , star-crossed lovers. I couldn’t tell anyone about it, but I never thought… I couldn’t even tell Laura after we left, I… No one knows. And the fire, it was my fault, if I only told someone, _anyone_ , it wouldn’t have happened. _I_ let her in, she knew the house’s layout because of me, everything she knew, _I_ told her.”

Stiles opened his mouth to say something when Derek ran a hand through his hair and said,

“It doesn’t matter. It’s in the past, I’m just sorry I didn’t have the courage to trust _you_ and tell you everything but I didn’t and now you’re dead.”

“Derek,” Stiles started quietly, his voice so earnest and sweet Derek had to look back up from where his gaze had dropped to the bundles of colored fabrics spread out on the floor, “I wouldn’t have expected you to tell me about Kate. I wish you did but I’m not surprised you didn’t, because that can ruin someone for life, Derek. It’s not your fault, okay? And, about us being mates… I’ve always known. Why the hell do you think I was protecting you? You were right; you couldn’t have stopped me, even if you tried to. I’d do it again and again if I had because _I love you_. And I’ll be waiting for you, as long as you need me to, until we can be together again.”

Unconsciously inching closer, Derek closed his eyes as Stiles’ head titled towards his slowly. For a brief moment, he felt a cold pressure on his jaw as Stiles’ lips ghosted over his gently, his touch feather-light.

All too soon, Derek felt the pressure alleviate and he opened his eyes to see…

Nothing.

“Stiles?” he called out, his voice hoarse and panicked, “Stiles, where the hell are you?”

Dead silence.

“This isn’t funny Stiles, I can’t lose you. Not again.”

Clenching his fists at his side, Derek willed his anger to the surface but all the time Stiles had spent keeping Derek from getting angry and hurting himself wouldn’t let him focus enough for his claws to slide out.

Inside, he knew that Stiles would have had to leave sooner or later but he always hoped it would be much, much later.

Gritting his teeth, Derek glared at the spot had been sitting on just a handful of minutes prior.

“You better wait for me Stiles, because I’m coming for you. And when I do, I’m going to fucking kick your ass.”

+++

_Stiles bit his lip, the tears in his eyes threatening to spill over as he sat unmoving, staring straight at Derek._

_Derek, who was slowly curling into himself and crying._

_The tears began to slip down his cheeks and Stiles felt his heart clench, even though he knew from the beginning that this was going to happen._

_Laura had warned him he wouldn’t have enough time. She had told him that it would hurt more if he came back, but he couldn’t bear to see Derek constantly furious with everything. He knew Derek needed to let the anger go and Stiles had been determined to fix it, even if it meant hurting himself._

_“I’m right here sourwolf,” he whispered as Derek stared straight back at him, unseeing, “I’ll always be right here.”_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Say hi to me on [tumblr](http://officerstilinskihale.tumblr.com/)!
> 
> You can also yell and tell me you hate me if you wish.
> 
> Thank you so much for reading!


	5. Run Where Lights Won't Chase Us

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “It’s true,” Erica said, wiping her face free of the tears that were still coming, “Without you I never would have met Boyd, or anyone here. You made us a family.”
> 
> Looking around, he felt a surge of gratefulness for his pack as they nodded in agreement.
> 
> Derek closed his eyes and felt their hands on him, scenting him one last time.
> 
> “I’ll tell Stiles you all said hi,” he said, relaxing even as his heart began to slow, and couldn’t resist one last smirk, “Oh and Scott? I’m telling Stiles you betrayed his trust and told me his real name.”
> 
> The last thing he heard was the pack’s quiet laughter at Scott, who had begun spluttering in indignation.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Title from "Spectrum" by Zedd feat. Matthew Koma.
> 
> dedicated to all you beautiful readers who made me want to keep writing. thank you so much, i really appreciate it!
> 
> as usual, unbeta'd and everything belongs to Jeff Davis.
> 
> Enjoy the fluff and happiness!

**Several years later**

Derek stumbled over the threshold of the Hale house, clutching his side and trying not to bleed onto the hardwood floor.

“Derek?” Isaac’s concerned voice floated from the kitchen and he popped his head around the doorway a second later, once he smelt the blood.

His eyes widening, he rushed forward to catch Derek right before his knees buckled.

“Boyd, Jackson!” he called out, panicked.

“Room,” Derek gasped, “Can’t… let her see.”

Knowing exactly who Derek was talking about, his beta nodded, throwing Derek’s arm over his shoulder and grunting with the effort when Jackson burst in and grabbed Derek’s other arm.

“Call Deaton,” Jackson said quietly to Boyd as they headed for Derek’s room, “Lydia, tell both of them to stay in the living room and out of the hallway until we get rid of the blood.”

“What’s going on?” Scott appeared at the top of the stairs, Allison right behind him, “Holy shit Derek, what happened?”

“Rogue hunters,” Derek winced, grounding out the words in between shallow gulps of air, “Took care of them, don’t worry. One of them got me though.”

“Deaton isn’t picking up,” Boyd, who was normally the most calm amongst his betas, was trying and failing to hide the panic in his eyes.

“We’ve got wolfsbane here,” Lydia walked into the room as they set Derek down onto his bed, carrying a brass box, “I asked Deaton for some a couple of weeks ago, just in case.”

“S’not wolfsbane,” Derek said, “Need Deaton.”

“I don’t think Deaton is even in Beacon Hills right now, Derek,” Scott said quietly.

A somber silence fell over the room as Derek looked at his pack.

His family.

“S’okay,” Derek nodded, strangely at peace.

 _Stiles_.

“You guys will be okay.”

“Derek, no,” Erica burst into the room, the tears already streaming down her face, “Not yet, you can’t go. Not yet.”

He shook his head and she threw herself on him, sobbing her eyes out.

The rest of the pack also began to look watery-eyed and Lydia walked out of the room, closing the door behind her just as the heard footsteps rush up to the door.

Derek shut his eyes; focusing on the heartbeat of the person he would hate leaving most.

“Uncca Dewek?” a small voice asked, knocking softly at his door, “What’s wong? Why are you cwying Auntie Wydia?”

“Your Uncle Derek is really sick, Laura,” Lydia said gently, her voice thick, “We’ll have to be really quiet and good, okay?”

“Let her in,” Derek called out, covering the wound as best as he could. He was sweating profusely, his skin pale as he began to shake slightly.

 _Nearly there_.

Walking in cautiously, Laura brushed her blonde curls out of her face and peered at Derek.

Erica had migrated to sitting next to Derek on his bed, though she was refusing to let go of his hand, not that Derek really minded. Erica was by far his favorite of his betas. He’d had a soft spot for her since he had first noticed her having a fit, before deciding to give her the bite. She grew into her confidence, and although she could seem cocky at first, she eventually mellowed out and took to being a werewolf really well.

“Come here baby,” she beckoned to Laura, holding a hand out to her daughter as Boyd smiled encouragingly at her.

Once Laura had reached the bed, she crawled up to Derek, laying her head on his chest so she could listen to his heartbeat.

Running a hand through her hair gently, Derek felt a pang in his chest when he thought about all the memories he would be missing, not being able to watch his goddaughter grow up.

Erica and Boyd’s first daughter was human, but they had already began to teach her the importance of scent-marking and touch, just in case there were going to be any werewolf cousins coming up. It was incredibly likely, considering both Allison and Lydia were pregnant. Allison had renounced the hunting side of her family, and whilst that had proved a sore spot for Chris at the start, he soon got over it, retiring a few years later and occasionally joined in on barbeques at the Hale house, where everyone had decided to stay. Although Lydia was immune, Deaton had mentioned that if a werewolf got her pregnant, there was a chance that she would give birth to a werebaby, her immunity not hindering her ability to carry the gene.

“Uncca Derek?” Laura’s voice was soft and sweet, muffled slightly as her face was still buried in Derek’s chest.

“Hmm?”

“Are you going to see Uncca Stiwes in heaven?”

This was too much for Scott and he lost it, bursting into loud, sobbing tears. Allison led him out of the room as he sobbed his heart out, a soothing hand on his back and murmuring comforting noises. Jackson didn’t even make a snide comment and Derek felt his own eyes beginning to sting.

“Yeah I will, princess,” Derek forced the words out, gritting his teeth against the pain, “He’s been waiting for me for a long time and he isn’t a very patient person. He’s getting pretty annoyed by having to wait for me.”

Despite herself, Erica snorted, then clapped a hand over her mouth in horror.

Shooting her a soft half-smile, he squeezed her fingers tightly.

“Give him a hundred kisses from me,” Laura told him firmly, lifting her head from his chest and leaning forward to press a kiss to Derek’s nose, “and from mommy.”

“After I give him a hundred from me,” Derek promised, his smile stretching wider.

“Don’t give him any from me,” Jackson drawled and Lydia smacked him upside the head, “Or you’ll be doing nothing but kiss him.”

“I’m sure between Stiles and I we could think of a couple of other ideas,” Derek deadpanned, his eyes twinkling as Jackson scowled back at him.

Derek felt the exact moment the poison reached his heart, because he felt his body seize up and he choked, barely able to get in any air into his lungs.

Suddenly, the whole pack crowded around the bed, Scott and Allison hurrying back inside.

“I wuv you Uncca Dewek,” Laura whispered, “Thank you for looking after mommy and daddy when they were small.”

His eyes widened and he turned his gaze to Erica and Boyd, who had stepped closer and had his arms wrapped around Erica’s waist.

“It’s true,” Erica said, wiping her face free of the tears that were still coming, “Without you I never would have met Boyd, or anyone here. You made us a family.”

Looking around, he felt a surge of gratefulness for his pack as they nodded in agreement.

Derek closed his eyes and felt their hands on him, scenting him one last time.

“I’ll tell Stiles you all said hi,” he said, relaxing even as his heart began to slow, and couldn’t resist one last smirk, “Oh and Scott? I’m telling Stiles you betrayed his trust and told me his real name.”

The last thing he heard was the pack’s quiet laughter at Scott, who had begun spluttering in indignation.

+++

After what seemed like hours, Derek opened his eyes to Stiles’ grinning face.

“I could get used to seeing this,” he smiled.

“I am _so_ glad you’re here,” Stiles laughed, his hands hovering over Derek, as if he couldn’t decide where to touch first, “Although I did wish you didn’t have to get killed by a _hunter_.”

“Did you want me to live until I was 80?” Derek asked, rolling his eyes as he sat up.

“Technically yes, but I’m selfishly happy you didn’t,” Stiles told him, his nose scrunching up adorably, “I don’t think I could’ve handled waiting that long, to be honest, even if I had no other choice.”

“If that happened though,” Derek wondered out loud, ignoring how good it felt as Stiles began running his hands across Derek’s chest and his shoulders, “would I be 80 here?”

Stiles rolled his eyes.

“Would it matter?”

“Of course it would,” Derek said, feigning exasperation, reaching up to touch Stiles’ face reverently, “How weird would it be if I looked 80 and you were 17 and I tried to kiss you?”

“Kiss me?” Stiles gasped in mock horror, a hand over his heart, “I’ll have you know that I am a lady.”

Snorting, Derek pulled Stiles towards him for a quick kiss.

“I’m sure you are,” he said dryly, glancing pointedly at Stiles’ crotch and Stiles punched him in the shoulder in retaliation.

“I thought we were just going to catch up,” Stiles amended, his eyes sparkling with mirth.

Pulling Stiles down onto him, Derek hooked his fingers just underneath the waistband of Stiles’ sweats, finally getting to touch the warm skin and smirking at Stiles’ sudden inhale.

Tilting his head up, he slotted his mouth over Stiles, who murmured,

“We’ve got a lot of catching up to do, sourwolf.”

Grinning against Stiles’ lips, Derek slowly tugged Stiles’ pants down.

“Good thing we’ve got forever then.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> FINALLY DONE, I HOPE YOU LIKED IT.
> 
> please, talk to me on [tumblr](http://officerstilinskihale.tumblr.com/)!
> 
> I also take random prompts, just by the way, so if you want anything written down, just message me and stuff. Anything over 1500 words gets posted here on AO3 but anything under that is posted as a drabble on my tumblr. See you there!


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